


You may not know I exist, but I'm still here.

by Hexenjäger (Rodarolla2)



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint is Dean and Sam's little half-bro, Clint is an Irish dancer, F/M, He's pretty damn good at it, M/M, They don't know it, idk where this came from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodarolla2/pseuds/Hexenj%C3%A4ger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton was never a Barton. His dad was John Winchester and mom was Erin O'Rielly. When his mom dies when he was only a few months old, he is kidnapped by the Bartons and raised like he was theirs. After the Battle of New York, Clint sees a memory from when he was a baby. That makes him question himself. Was he really the youngest son of Harold and Edith Barton and brother of Barney Barton? Who is Clint Barton?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint sighed as he stood at the edge of the Helicarrier. The wind wind wasn't to strong and just the right temperature. It blew through his hair, ruffling it in a pleasant way. It was nice, quiet, and the perfect place to think. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. All over the same thing, actually.

 

"Clint?" Came the voice from across the deck.

 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself." Clint laughed. "Just been thinking."

 

"About what?" The voice replied with a hint of sternness. "If it's about what happened about your actions under Loki-"

 

"Well, sorta." Clint shrugged. He felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist and leaned back into the touch. "I don't think I'm a Barton... I don't think Harold Barton was my dad... Edith Barton my mom... Barney was my brother... I think my life was a lie..."

 

"What do you mean?" A kiss was pressed into his hair.

 

"A... memory... came back..." Clint sighed. "It was hot... like hellfire... and I heard a man yelling 'Erin!' Then a woman yelling 'John! Get him out of here!' I remember a pair of arms picking me up and running. Something happened... I don't know what." The grip around his waist tightened.

 

"Clint... I'm sorry..." Another kiss was pressed to his hair.

 

"Nothing I can do to change it, Steve." Clint turned around in his arms and buried his face in his chest. "I'm thinking of going to find out who I am... Who is my real family."

 

"Do you want me to come with you?" Steve said as he tucked Clint's head underneath his chin.

 

"No... It's something I gotta do alone." Clint said. "Think of it as a right of passage."

 

* * *

 

Clint pulled into a run down gas station in a small town in Colorado. He noticed a 1967 Chevy Impala parked beside his 2008 Lotus Evora. Clint also noticed two men standing by it nervously scanning the small crowd. The looked like deer caught in headlights when they saw a few officers coming towards them. They looked like Clint. Not really appearance, but in mannerism and things like that.

 

"Problem officers?" Clint stepped towards them.

 

"Agent Barton!" one of the officers stuttered.

 

"I asked if there was a problem?" Clint crossed his arms.

 

"These two are wanted criminals, Agent!" the same one stuttered.

 

"Really?" Clint smirked. "I was under the impression that they were under the protection of SHIELD."

 

"Of course! No one told us sir!" the other said. The officers scrambled away.

 

"Who the hell are you?" the shorter one standing by the Impala asked.

 

"Not really sure anymore, but until I get to the bottom of this, its Clint Barton." Clint turned to look at the two.

 

"Thank you, for saving us from the cops. I'm Sam, by the way, Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean." The taller one said. "Who's SHIELD, if you don't mind me asking. I don't remember being under the protection of anybody."

 

"You're welcome." Clint shrugged. "You're technically not. I said that to get them off your asses. SHIELD's just a government agency. World security, if you will. I work for SHIELD and that was the best I could come up with in less that ten seconds."

 

"So what you're a fed?" Dean growled.

 

"Nope. Feds have their way I'd be on death row right now, or already dead." Clint said. "I'm more of an assassin and spy for the good side. You two are hunters, right?"

 

"Yeah." Dean glared at him. Something was off about this guy.

 

"Did your agency send you out here for something?" Sam asked.

 

"Nah, pretty damn convinced my life's been a lie, convinced my boss to let me have down time until I figure this out or give it up completely." Clint shook his head. "Been going all over the place looking for answers. Might've been easier if I had more than just two first names and heat like hellfire."

 

"Heat like hellfire?" Dean frowned. "How would you know what that feels like?"

 

"I don't that word just immediately came to me and just felt natural, you know, a right way to describe it. Hot and scorching just doesn't cut it." Clint said. "Not clear on anything anymore." Clint shrugged. 


	2. Chapter 2

_"John," Erin smiled. "Brian is so adorable."_

 

_"Yeah, pretty soon he'll be big enough to throw a football." John Winchester laughed as he picked up his thirteen month old baby. The baby gurgled happily._

 

_"He looks more like an archer than a football player." Erin laughed as she picked up his stuffed bow and gave it to the baby. Brian giggled and snuggled farther into his father's arms, clutching the small toy to his chest. "When do you think Dean and Sam will be able to meet little Brian?"_

 

_"I'll be picking them up from Dad's in a few days, so they can meet him when I get back." John smiled._

 

_"You hear that? You get to meet Big Brother Dean and Big Brother Sam in a few days." Erin laughed as she took the baby from his father._

 

_"Dean."  Brian cooed. Erin's and John's eyes met with excitement._

 

_"Imagine that..." John chuckled. "His first word was his brother's name that he hasn't even met..." Erin smiled at her son. Brian yawned._

 

_"Looks like someone's tired." Erin cooed. "Time for bed." She gently laid the baby into his crib. She pressed a kiss to his forehead._

 

_"Good night, Brian Aaron Winchester." John said as he walked out of the nursery._

 

 

_It was hot like hellfire. Brian was crying at the top of his lungs. Erin was pinned to the ceiling and bleeding heavily._

 

_"Erin!" John screamed as he saw his love in the same position as he wife had been when she was killed._

 

_"John! Get him out of here!" Erin screamed. John scooped up his son and ran. The firemen arrived later, but by then it was too late. The house was gone. Erin was gone. All that was left was John and his baby._

 

Clint shot up in his bed, covered in sweat.

 

"Brian Aaron Winchester?" Clint mumbled. "Shit... Wait did I have older brothers? Sam... and Dean... Wait a second..." his eyes widened. "I met Sam and Dean Winchester today! Are those my brothers?" He reached for his phone. He dialed Fury's SHIELD issue phone.

 

> _Agent. Is there a reason you called at  two in the morning?_ <

 

"Yeah. Director, I need you to get Stark or someone researching the Winchesters. Sam and Dean. Also, John and if he was connected to a woman named Erin in any way. I might've brought this thing to a close if the intel matches up." Clint replied. "Send it to my Starkpad."

 

> _I'll get Stark on it. If anyone can find all the intel, its Stark._ <

 

"Thanks." Clint hung up and frowned. He needed some air. He put on a pair of black jeans, a dark purple skin-tight tshirt, a pair of well-worn combat boots, and grabbed his leather jacket. He walked out of the hotel and continued until he was in a barely lit place near a motel. There was a whoosh of air and Clint flipped back three times. There was a tall man with glowing eyes and fangs staring at him.

 

"Stay still." He hissed.

 

"Hell no, jackass!" Clint growled as he flipped over the man as he lunged at him. "So what are you? A vampire?" Clint snarled as he dodged a few more attacks from the bastard.

 

"Maybe, maybe not." the man growled showing his fangs.

 

"Yep. You're a sparkling fairy." Clint smirked as he sidestepped an attack. Clint had reached a forest. There was  one near that motel. He saw a branch lying on the ground. He picked it up and stabbed his attacker through the heart. "Woah... Calm down there Hawkeye! You just ganked a vamp..." Clint dropped the branch and the grinned. "Tasha's gonna be so jealous." Clint laughed. "What the hell... Gank? Really? What the hell is wrong with me..." Clint facepalmed.

 

"Gank means to kill or destroy. Not many people knows what that means, and judging by your reaction, you didn't either." a voice said from behind him. Clint whirled around, knife in hand and other reaching for his pistol hidden in his jacket.

 

"What the hell!" Clint growled. He put his knife back in his boot and moved his hand away from his gun.

 

"Scare you?" Sam Winchester smirked.

 

"No and if I hadn't recognized you, you'd be dead." Clint glared at him. "Natural reflexs, kill anyone who has the audacity to sneak up on me or tries to. Honed with fifteen years of practice."

 

"I take it you're like nineeteen or twenty?" Sam leaned against the lightpost. "I heard that spies and assassins start young."

 

"Close but no cigar and I'll take it as a compliment. I'm twenty-six." Clint smirked and leaned against a tree. "I started young, but not that young. Eleven years old when I started, being an assassin, eighteen when I started spying. My friend Natasha on the other hand, she was six when she was put in the Black Widow Program."

 

"I thought that that was shut down." Sam frowned.

 

"It was. 1989." Clint grinned. "She was put in there 1945."

 

"But that was when World War II was going on!" Sam had a shocked look on his face. "How is she still alive?"

 

"Dude, you'd never guess that she was over seventy years old. She looks like she's in her twenties, genetically altered to kick more ass, live longer, look younger, and do it without breaking a nail. She's badass." Clint shook his head. "Any perticular reason you're out here?"

 

"Well, I had readings that a vampire was nearby, couldn't wake Dean up, and decided to check it out. Looks like you handled it pretty well." Sam shrugged. "Sparkling fairy? Twilight? Really?"

 

"Well that's what they were. Werewolves were so much better." Clint laughed. "Have a friend that got into Twilight. I will never understand that... and his unconditional love of poptarts." Sam laughed. "I get away with trashing Twilight because I'm his favorite and the so called 'baby of the team' nevermind that I could kill each and everyone of them."

 

"That makes me feel old... and I'm only four years older than you." Sam shook his head. Clint laughed. Clint's Starkphone started ringing.

 

"Ah, gotta go, been waiting for some info on a possible lead on who I am." Clint grinned. "Nice talking to you and if you're ever in New York and need some help with anything or wanting to chat with someone, here's my number." Clint handed a slip of paper to Sam.

 

"Thanks, we might take you up on that offer. Good luck with finding out who you are." Sam smiled before Clint walked away.

 

"Stark, whatcha got?" Clint asked.

 

> _Get this Legolas, the Winchesters, they have, or were supposed to have, another little son, Brian Aaron Winchester. Disappeared two days after his mom was killed in a house fire._ <

 

"Stark, I had another memory comeback. In it I was called by, I'm guessing, John Winchester Brian Aaron Winchester, so that matches up with what I've got. Anything about a woman named Erin?" Clint nodded.

 

> _Yeah, here's where things get ineresting. John Winchester was engaged to Erin O'Rielly and they had a son together. That's were possibly you come in. So I'm guessing our two wanted criminals or hunters, what ever you want to call it, are your half brothers._ <

 

"Okay, John Winchester, where is he?" Clint asked.

 

> _Sorry... but he's dead. Died a few months back. It's just you, Sam, and Dean._ <

 

"Okay. I'm coming home. Case closed. I'm Brian Aaron Winchester. I'm not a hunter, but I may have just been introduced to being one." Clint walked back to his room.

 

> _Why? What did you do?_ <

 

"Damn. You sound like Steve does when he scolds us for something." Clint laughed as he packed up his things. "I ganked a vampire."

 

> _What the hell does 'gank' mean?_ <

 

"To kill or destroy." Clint shrugged as he paid for his stay and got into his Evora. "I gave my number to Sam, so that when he and Dean are in New York and need help they can just call."

 

> _Baby bro being helpful is he?_ <

 

"Yep. Also gonna hack the Criminal database and wipe their records clean, pay for every bill, and create a separate bank account with some money in them. If their baby bro's a millionaire, then they are **not** staying in shitty motels, at least. And they can keep that gas guzzler of theirs filled.

 

> _What have they got?_ <

 

"A 1967 Chevy Impala." Clint grinned.

 

> _Damn. You are a Good Samaritan to those two._ <

 

"Yeah. And Tony? Thanks for giving me a place to stay." Clint said.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam walked back into the hotel room that he shared with Dean.

 

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled as he rolled over. "Where've you been?"

 

"I tried to wake you up, but since you wouldn't wake up, I had to go handle a vampire on my own." Sam replied as he shrugged off his jacket. "Turns out, I didn't even need to go. That guy, Clint Barton, he was out for a walk or something and ganked it. He didn' know what ganked meant, just said it cause it was the first thing out of his mouth. You were right. Something's up with him. Anyhow, he gave us his number in case we were in New York and need help or just want to chat."

 

"He ganked a vamp? How?" Dean sat up and rolled his shoulders.

 

"Insulted it by calling it a sparkling fairy, kept flipping behind it or just plain dodging its attacks, picked up a branch, and then stabbed it through the heart." Sam shook his head. "I was nearly subject to a bullet and a knife from him as well."

 

"Why!" Dean was out of bed and checking Sam over for any injury.

 

"I'm fine. I just startled him. His natural reflexes are to kill anyone who sneaks up on him or tries to, honed with fifteen years of practice." Sam shook his head.

 

"He's like nineteen or twenty so he started at like four or five?" Dean frowned.

 

"That's what I thought, He's actually twenty-six." Sam grinned. "He started being an assassin at eleven and a spy at eighteen."

 

"Wow." Dean gaped.

 

"Also, he's considered the 'baby of the team' that he's on now. So he can get away with a lot of things." Sam laughed. "That made me feel so old."

 

"You feel old! I'm older than you! How do you think that makes me feel!" Dean just gave Sam a look. "So, anyway, we need help or just want to chat, we call or text him?"

 

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "Now you can have someone to chat with that might actually understand some of the things you're talking about."

 

"Dude, if he's twenty-six, then there's no way he'll understand what I talk about." Dean shook his head.

 

"I don't know. He said his best friend Natasha was six when she was put in the Balck Widow program back in 1945, so he might konw a thing or two." Sam shrugged.

 

"I think he's shitting you, Sammy, there's no way someone's still alive after that." Dean said.

 

"He also said that you'd never guess she's over seventy years old, she looks like she's in her twenties and is genetically altered to kick more ass, live longer, look younger, and do it without breaking a nail." Sam said.

 

"Dude, she sounds badass." Dean said. Sam nodded.

 

* * *

 

Three months later

 

* * *

 

 

Dean: Hey, Clint Barton. This is Dean Winchester. Have you heard of a haunting in Manhatten near Stark Tower that has people ending up dead?

Clint: Yeah. I imagine you're coming to check it out?

Dean: Yeah. Know anywhere Sam and I could stay for cheap?

Clint: Stark Tower.

Dean: What? There's no way Sam and I could even get within a mile of there without cops getting us!

Clint: Yes you could. Plus, I live there. I could tell Tony that you're coming and he'd give you a whole floor. One for you and one for Sam

Dean: You're shitting me

Clint: Nope. Besides, even if he didn't, cops can't do shit to you unless you break the law

Dean: Dude, we're wanted criminals

Clint: Not anymore.

Dean: What?

Clint: You're no longer wanted criminals.

Dean: How?

Clint: I hacked into the crimainal database and cleaned your's and Sam's records.

Dean: How did you not get caught and thanks

Clint: My laptop's completely untraceable even though it's connected to the Internet. You have people looking out for you two.

Dean: Thanks. Really.

Clint: You're welcome.

 

Dean slouched back in his seat as Sam cursed and muttered under his breath as he tried to navigate through the Manhatten traffic. Clint had said that Tony had space set aside for them when they got there and to just park in the garage at the Tower. They spent half an hour getting through the traffic and parked.

 

"Traffic getting to you, Hot Shots?" A slightly Russian accented voice teased as soon as they got out of the Impala.

 

"Who the hell are you?" Dean grumbled as he looked at where the voice came from. He blinked as he saw a very beautiful red headed girl smirking at them from near the elevator.

 

"Natasha Romanov," She smirked. "You know, the girl who was put in the Black Widow program back in '45."

 

"Holy shit." Dean muttered.

 

"So, Hot Shot, I imagine you're here about the hauntings?" Natasha said.

 

"Yeah." Sam said as he eyed her warily.

 

"Good. Clint and I could use the help." Natasha said.

 

"He didn't mention that he was working on it." Dean frowned.

 

"Not surprised. He's still getting his shit together after being a Norse god's favorite flying monkey. Sometimes he forgets what the hell he's doing while he's doing it." Natasha shrugged. "Still love the bastard. He's my best friend and little brother, I'm stuck with him for eternity."

 

"Norse god's favorite flying monkey?" Dean frowned.

 

"Yeah, Loki, Norse god of mischief." Natasha said. "Came to Earth about four months ago, took over his mind, and tried to take over the world. Steve, Bruce, Tony, Thor, Clint, and I kicked his ass. He's in an Asgardian prison now gaurded by warriors hand picked by Thor. No way he's escaping. Although, I wouldn't mind a second go at him so Clint can put an arrow in his eye socket and I can rip him to shreads for hurting my boy." Natasha grinned so evilly that Dean and Sam wondered if she was a demon host.

 

"Where's Clint?" Sam asked.

 

"Down in the bowels of the mad scientist labs." Natasha said in a creepy voice.

 

"Huh?" Sam gave her a slightly startled look. She laughed.

 

"Just kidding. He's making me some Prauge cake and Vatrushka in the kitchen." Natasha laughed. "But seriously, he'll disappear in the labs to be a lab rat or do some inventing or shit on his own."

 

"He's making what?" Dean frowned.

 

"They're Russian sweets. I didn't get any sweets on my last trip to Russia, so in order to stop a huge massacre, he started making me sweets." Natasha smiled. "He makes me sweets all the time. I'm his guinea pig for whatever new food he wants to try and cook. Very talented. Supposed to be making something he said he picked up in the circus for dinner."

 

"So he cooks?" Sam said.

 

"Oh yeah. He's kinda like our unofficial cook. We'll sit on our asses until he gets his up and makes dinner, lunch, breakfast, or whatever the hell we want. He bitches about it but we all know he actually secretly likes it. The bitching is just for show." Natasha grinned as the elevator dinged and pulled the two brothers out into the hallway.

 

"Miss Romanov," A tall, well built, blonde man came around the corner.

 

"Steve, just call me Natasha." Natasha waved.

 

"Right... Have you seen Clint? I didn't think he was at SHIELD but I can't find him." Steve said.

 

"Last I saw him, he was in the kitchen on the communal floor." Natasha said.

 

"Whatever he's making for dinner, does it really take that long?" Steve frowned.

 

"Nope, he's making me some Russian sweets." Natasha clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll let him know you're looking for him."

 

"Thanks, Natasha." Steve smiled and walked around the corner.

 

"I like Steve. He's a nice kid." Natasha smiled. "I call him a kid even though he's twenty-two years older than me."

 

"Clint mentioned something about being the baby on the team, but everyone looks like they're about his age," Sam frowned.

 

"Yeah, at twenty-six, he is. The next youngest is Stark at thirty-five. Then Bruce at thirty-six, me at seventy four, Steve at ninety-six, and last you have Thor at thousands of years old." Natasha said. "He's really actually young compared to us."

 

"All right, that doesn't make me feel so old anymore." Sam laughed.

 

"Doesn't help me." Dean grumbled. Sam and Natasha laughed.

 

"You two are alright." Natsha said as she opened the door to the kitchen. They saw Clint perched on the island like a cat staring at the oven.

 

"Its almost done." Clint said.

 

"Good. The Winchesters are here." Natasha grinned.

 

"Hey." Sam and Dean said together.

 

"Hey. I hope Tasha didn't scare you too much." Clint waved without turning from the oven.

 

"Why would you think that?" Natasha put on a fake innocent grin.

 

"Because, you made our new handler shit his pants, when he was still checking the team out." Clint snorted.

 

"That guy said he would be a better handler than Phil! No one will ever be as good as Phil. EVER." Natasha said. "Plus, you pulled the whole tower is haunted crap. I just went along with it." Natasha crossed her arms.

 

"Touche." Clint said. Clint suddenly pounced from the counter and pulled something out of the oven. He spent the next few minutes adding details to it. "Your Prague cake and Vatrushka are done."

 

"Thanks." Natasha grinned. She waved. "Well, I'm off to scare junior agents, Steve's looking for you Clint, and see you at dinner." She walked out of the room.

 

"Well, I guess I should show you to your floors. First off this is the common floor," Clint showed them to the floors that they would get.


End file.
